A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. ‘Point it at me. Besides, revenge is sweetened by delay; and I indulge too freely in the passion to rob it of any of its zest. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. Farewell. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly. I must know what new thing has come between us that she should treat me as a lover one day and a monster the next. Fiercely defensive, as usual. " "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English.
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